


to be alone with you

by homeybee



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is emotional, Discussions of sex, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Please enjoy!, Schmoop, This started as crack and then I rolled with it, Wings, bc crowley is into that. don’t question it bro, ear licking, i don’t think ppl normally tag grammar but that was a Conscious Choice!, its soft, mind sharing, oh yeah i forgot, or at least discussion of masturbation, switching from past to present tense, this fic was 100 percent self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-25 19:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19752631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homeybee/pseuds/homeybee
Summary: title from the hozier song because im gay.Crowley and Aziraphale have a much-needed conversation (albeit very messily) and retreat to the bedroom to deal with it. very soft and loving sex ensues.





	to be alone with you

**Author's Note:**

> didn’t quite expect to finish this, and i hope no one i know ever finds it! i certainly enjoyed writing it though and i hope y’all have fun reading it :)

Crowley was not always proud of the thoughts that came into his mind. Plenty of them were truly horrific, and rather intrusive, but this one was more embarrassing. 

One evening, as Crowley laid in his bed staring at the ceiling, and thinking about heaven and God and angels and Aziraphale, Aziraphale, Aziraphale, found himself wondering if the angel ever, y’know, if he ever _masturbated._

Crowley was entirely unsure! Firstly, the angel was probably sexless, as they were described in most literature. So probably not. 

But also… _Aziraphale_ had been on Earth almost since its creation, and indulged in many human pleasures. And, obviously, _Crowley_ had figured it out, learned how to pleasure himself, so there was no real reason not to assume the angel had as well. Only… 

Only, when Crowley tried to imagine it, he felt an incredible number of conflicting emotions. 

Guilt, for imagining his friend in such an intimate position without his knowledge; and lust, because _fuck_ if that image didn’t fill Crowley with wanting, unadulterated and fiery. 

In fact, most of the other emotions aligned themselves with those two quite neatly once Crowley had begun mentally cataloguing them. Desire, shame, frustration, the works.

The image of Aziraphale laying on his bed, at least partially nude, beautiful face open in an expression of heated pleasure as one of his well-manicured hands, french tips and all, wrapped itself around his cock— it haunted Crowley, leaving him feeling that sweet mixture of shame and lust and curiosity that was so _human_ a combination. 

Of course he wanted to think that Aziraphale, angelic, pure, beautiful and full of heavenly love, would never masturbate, let alone have sex. And even if he _did_ have sex— which Crowley couldn’t bring himself to imagine because of the pang of jealousy that stabbed through him at the very thought— even if he _did_ , it could be excused to be part of that same angelic love. 

Masturbation, on the other hand, Crowley could only imagine to be pure lust. Indulgence in earthly pleasures, indeed. 

The question haunted him for days, which stretched into weeks, and he found the images his mind had conjured (never before had Crowley so thoroughly rued having a good imagination!) crept into his brain during real conversations with the angel, and disturbing absolutely innocuous moments. 

Finally, one afternoon in the park, the images slipped unbidden into Crowley’s mind as he watched Aziraphale with an ice cream cone, licking off one of his fingers that had become sticky with vanilla-flavored drips. Crowley looked away very quickly. 

He decided that the question that had been merely niggling at the back of his brain a few weeks ago was decidedly ruining his life, and something must be done. Better to just ask the angel, and have him say no, and then all can go back to normal. 

“Angel,” Crowley said casually as he could. “Y’know how we indulge in all sorts of human pleasures, like food, and ice cream, and nice drinks, and walks in the park,” 

“Yes, although I’d daresay that food and ice cream belong to the same category.” Aziraphale responded, taking another lick at the ice cream in question. 

“Not the point I was getting at, but sure. Ice cream is undeniably food. Anyway, I was just curious, if—” and here his courage failed him. He couldn’t say that word to Aziraphale! 

He clamped his mouth shut, as if he needed to. Shut or not, he didn’t seem to be capable of saying it in front of Aziraphale himself. It was really for the better, anyway, he was thinking before Aziraphale interrupted his internal monologue.

“‘Curious if’ what, my dear?” Aziraphale looked over at him, taking in Crowley’s tenseness of body and redness of face. 

“Er, it’s nothing, really, and a bit _vulgar,_ anyway.” Crowley said lamely. 

“No, I truly want to know! I’m a bit curious, now,” The angel wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, not helping _anything._

“Oh, all right,” Crowley gave in. “But don’t get weird about it. I wasn’t going to ask before you insisted.” 

Crowley’s heart thudded in his chest and he allowed himself one moment of pure terror before he asked, _almost_ as casually as he had initially intended. “Do you ever, er, _touch_ yourself?” 

Crowley immediately realized that the euphemism could be taken many ways, and added, “Er, masturbate, that is.” He was incredibly warm and refused to look at Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale laughed, and said, “Well, that _is_ a bit _vulgar_ , now, isn’t it, and not nearly what I was expecting!” Crowley could not speak to respond, as he felt his entire throat had swollen shut with shame and embarrassment. 

Aziraphale continued, somehow reading his mind. “And I wouldn’t think it anything to be ashamed about, anyway— I don’t think She would have given us the ability to pleasure ourselves if we weren’t meant to do it.”

Crowley wondered silently how Aziraphale could possibly be saying any of these things without burning to a crisp, as he felt like was happening to him. Although, the angel’s face did look rather redder than he had ever seen it, pink cheeks and ears betraying what his tone did not. 

Crowley’s mental images quickly adjusted themselves to show this delightful new change, and Crowley let out a very small squeak of indignation. 

Aziraphale did not seem to notice, still looking out over the water. He continued, 

“So yes, I do masturbate, if that answers your question. I had only assumed you do as well, along with all the other pleasures of the flesh.” 

Crowley now found himself imagining the angel, face and ears dusted with gentle pink, coming to the thought of Crowley touching himself, and felt a great swoop in his abdomen. 

Yet a moment later he found his voice again, rather alarmed. 

“All the _other_ pleasures of the flesh?” He asked, tone ragged in a way that Crowley hoped could be interpreted as ‘shocked’ and not ‘horrifically turned on’.

“Why, you know, _sex,”_ Aziraphale clarified, now flushing more pink than ever. Crowley tried not to let himself wonder if the blush was in memory of Aziraphale’s own escapades or the thought of Crowley fucking— or _being_ fucked by someone. 

“Er, I’ve actually not—” Crowley clarified, wondering if the earth would open up and swallow him. 

“You haven’t? Had sex? _Masturbated?”_ Aziraphale asked, finally meeting his eye and looking quite surprised. 

“Uh! No to the former, yes to the latter,” Crowley managed to choke out. 

“Well! I would’ve thought that you would have had to, to complete at least _some_ of your temptations! I might have even,” Aziraphale broke off, finally reaching his limit with this conversation. 

“You had sex for the sake of our Arrangement?” Crowley asked, as incredulous as that very first time the angel had surprised him, in the garden of Eden.

Aziraphale did not deny it, only giving a sort of shrugging nod. 

“ _God._ Angel— I would have never asked you to— to _do_ that with someone else, I never even thought to clarify—” 

Crowley felt more ashamed than ever, thinking that the angel might’ve had sex because he thought it was what Crowley would do. Not for his own pleasure, not because he wanted to— 

“Well, it was also because I wanted to, and felt like it,” Aziraphale said primly, seeming to read Crowley’s thoughts. 

“Ngk,” Crowley said rather eloquently, short-circuiting. 

“I can hardly believe you’ve never done it! It’s really quite fun,” Aziraphale said.

“Fun,” said Crowley a bit disbelievingly. He managed to get himself under control just a bit.

“Er, I’ve only considered it maybe once or twice, but I don’t think I ever felt quite comfortable enough with another person to even want it other than that,” Crowley confessed.

“And the once or twice? What happened to them?” Aziraphale asked, not letting up.

“Well, the first was _our lord and savior_ if you must know. I sort of felt it was my duty, to show him what he was missing out on, among other things. And, well, you can imagine how that might’ve gone down.” Crowley said numbly.

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale looked at him with fondness and pity clear on his face. “‘And the devil tempted Jesus with bodily pleasures, and Jesus refused. ‘Away from me, Satan’, indeed.”

Crowley felt tears well up in his throat at the memory, and the memory of the Crucifixion. 

“Fuck.” He said, taking off his sunglasses to wipe his eyes. 

Aziraphale scooted close to him, rubbing his back and resting a hand on his thigh comfortingly. He didn’t say anything now, simply holding Crowley and remembering. 

Neither of them voiced what both were thinking. That if maybe Crowley had been successful, there would have been no crucifixion, no Christ as we know him, simply an ordinary man who did both good and bad things and lived happily and uneventfully to the end of his days. Oh well, not worth thinking about now.

Crowley shuddered, leaning into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck for a moment, then wiped his eyes again and sat up again. 

“Sorry,” he said, “I don’t know why that happened, I’ve had plenty of time to get over it,” 

“It all was rather traumatic, whether it was two thousand years ago or not.” Aziraphale said plainly, in a way that comforted Crowley more than any words of pity could. Crowley knew in his bones that it comforted him in a way that only Aziraphale ever could, and only because he was himself. 

After a very long while of sitting in silence, the angel spoke again. 

“Who was the other, then?” 

“Hm?” Crowley remembered the topic of conversation, having drifted deep into the throes of memory while staring at the duck pond. The second person he had ever been comfortable enough with to ever consider having sex with was, of course, Aziraphale. 

Crowley wondered silently why he only fell for beings holy enough to smite him into ashes with a look. Masochism? Or the more dramatic desire to be loved again by God? Crowley didn’t really think it was either of these things, simply bad luck and a soft spot for people who are really, truly good at heart. 

He sighed and answered, several moments after Aziraphale has spoken.

“Oh, it’s not as dramatic, this one. I never really had the courage to ask. We uh, weren’t like that.” 

“Weren’t like that? I suppose a human lifetime isn’t much time to muster up courage anyway, if they don’t feel the same.” Aziraphale rubbed his thigh comfortingly again, and Crowley felt his mouth open and begin speaking, as if he were no longer connected to it. 

“I’ve had a bit longer than a human lifetime, I’m afraid,” he admitted, and then suddenly he was back in his body, frozen with the fear of what he had just said. 

Aziraphale, too, seemed to freeze, comforting hand going still on Crowley’s thigh. 

  


For a moment, there was nothing but the shock of realization rushing through both of them, as if lightning had struck their little bench out of a clear blue sky. 

Then Aziraphale moved his hand, upward, to Crowley’s cheek, and turned his face to face his own, and kissed him. 

Crowley felt a pain in his chest, and clutched at the wrist of the hand cupping his cheek, as if there were nothing else grounding him to the earth. 

Aziraphale moved back, feeling the sob that arose in Crowley’s throat, and the loss became too much for him. Crowley threw himself into Aziraphale’s soft form with a greater momentum than should have been possible, and buried his face again in the angel’s neck. 

Aziraphale brought comforting arms up to rub at his back, over his neck, hugging him around the waist. The hands roved over him with concerned care, and Crowley took deep breaths, taking great comfort in Aziraphale’s scent. He smelled of sunlight, Crowley had always thought. 

He felt, rather than heard, Aziraphale speaking. 

“My dear, I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, I thought that you could have only meant one thing but I must have gotten it wrong! I’m so sorry, I feel I must’ve projected my own feelings into you. I’ve never quite had the courage to tell you, apart from— well, everything.” 

Crowley sat up, extricating himself from Aziraphale’s arms to look into his face as he spoke. They were still pressed together, foreheads nearly touching, and their eyes both burned with an intensity neither had seen before. 

Aziraphale couldn’t seem to stop talking, and Crowley listened, watching, hanging on to every word like it was a matter of life and death. 

“I always thought there was something between us, and it _scared_ me, how much I wanted it, you know in nineteen sixty-seven when they decriminalized homosexuality, and you told me you’d take me anywhere and I _couldn’t_ because it _terrified_ me, and I thought I would be smote down from heaven where we sat! But I know neither of us _said_ anything about— about kissing or romantic love, and I’m quite sorry if I’ve misconstrued your meaning and upset you, and—mmph!” 

Crowley had closed the tiny distance between them and kissed Aziraphale, who opened his mouth and reached for Crowley with his tongue as well, hands clutching at him, gathering Crowley in with his whole being as if he were a precious nutrient that Aziraphale had been _starved_ of, and which he needed to take in enough of within the next four seconds or he would shrivel up and die. 

They both kissed for much longer than four seconds, of course, hands roving and petting and winding in each other’s hair, tongues exploring and lips locked together like it was the end of the world. 

The end of the world had supposedly happened nearly a month ago, and yet this felt so much more important. In a timeline of Important Moments In Crowley’s Life, Armageddon might’ve gotten an honorable mention, but this kiss would have won first prize, even over being Created, and Falling, and everything else that had ever happened. 

Finally they broke apart, and they both laughed, finding some hilarity in their fervor, now that they were together and it was alright. They laughed and giggled, still entwined. 

Crowley kissed Aziraphale again, soft this time, and sweet, feeling the gentle texture of his lips, stroking the softness of his cheek. They smiled into each other’s lips, overcome by a soaring happiness and _rightness_ of feeling. 

Then, in a feeling more subtle and yet more intimate then anything yet, Aziraphale brushed his lips softly against Crowley’s, hardly touching them, simply moving his lips back and forth over Crowley’s to feel their texture, their softness. Crowley felt also, subtly and gently, and was astounded by the softness of Aziraphale’s lips. 

He moved this exploration to his cheeks, his eyelashes (which tickled), and his neck, where he nuzzled softly before sighing and resting his head, burying his nose into the comforting fleshy softness just below Aziraphale’s jawbone.

Aziraphale took in a breath rather sharply at the sensation, clutching at Crowley with a sudden unexpected moan. 

Crowley drew back, taking in the angel’s appearance. He was flushed, lips open in surprise himself at his own reaction, and he swallowed hard under Crowley’s scrutiny.

“Maybe we should retire somewhere more comfortable? We are in public, after all— whether you can make people ignore us with a wish or not.” 

Crowley nodded agreement, not trusting his voice at the sight of the angel, debauched and _wanting._ He closed his eyes, searching their surroundings and making sure there were no watchers, before transporting them both with a _pop_ to land on his own bed in his apartment, resulting in a great _whumph_ of pillows and blankets as they land, Crowley atop Aziraphale. 

  


Alone now, they slow down. They have all the time in the world, and they know it. Crowley presses his lips to Aziraphale’s again, ever so softly, _craving_ the feeling they make together. 

Crowley can’t seem to stop stroking Aziraphale’s hands and forearms, brushing his lips over Aziraphale’s face and neck, a warm hum spreading from his chest throughout his body as he indulges this desire. 

Aziraphale hums contentedly, and then his eyes flutter open, lashes brushing against Crowley’s temple.

“How are you _doing_ that?” Aziraphale asks softly, voice full of amusement and wonder. 

“Doing what?” Crowley answers, rubbing his face up under Aziraphale’s chin like a cat. 

“You’re basically _glowing,_ ” Aziraphale’s forehead wrinkles, trying to figure out exactly what it is he feels, and Crowley places a kiss there, affection welling up in his chest.

“There! That!” Aziraphale looks up at him expectantly, and then Crowley feels _something,_ inside his consciousness. He presses back, curious, and then _Aziraphale_ is surrounding him, around him and within him, humming and warm and holy and vibrating with love. 

Crowley’s breath catches in his throat, and he can only press his face into the place where Aziraphale’s hair starts, at the base of his skull, and allow himself to be pulled close, overwhelmed by the feeling. 

_What is this?_ Crowley isn’t sure if he spoke aloud or not, but Aziraphale seems to have heard him, breathing confidence and reassurance back, and resoundingly, Crowley can _feel_ the answer.

_Love, my dear._ A holy light encompasses him with it, warming him from the inside out. 

_Are you possessing me?_ Crowley asks, remembering the proposition from before the apocalypse keenly, and he wonders if he shouldn’t have been so quick to turn it down. Explosive, indeed.

Aziraphale chuckles, and Crowley thinks it’s probably the most beautiful noise he’s ever heard. He thinks of church bells, of birdsong, of all the music he’s ever heard, and _yes_ this is much better.

Aziraphale laughs again, filling Crowley with joy, and he jokes,

 _Who would’ve thought you to be such a sap?_ reaching a hand to stroke through Crowley’s hair. 

Then, amusement fades into a more serious consideration. 

_I don’t think possession is quite the word for it, darling. I don’t think our physical forms are of much consequence. We are together, and that is all._

Crowley turns his face into Aziraphale’s neck, and licks a slow line from collarbone to ear, feeling a white wave of pleasure wash over both of them. 

“Oh,” sighs Aziraphale, going boneless underneath him.

_Not of consequence, hmm?_ Crowley thinks wickedly, placing a wet kiss to a deliciously soft spot just above Aziraphale’s collarbone. 

There is another wave of pleasure, greatly encouraging him. 

He allows his teeth to scrape gently against the same spot, then suckles at it, tugging the soft flesh into his mouth, circling it with his tongue. 

He feels rather than hears the moan that tears itself from the angel’s throat. _Craving_ overcomes him, and he leans back up to capture Aziraphale’s mouth in a kiss. 

Aziraphale comes back to life, muscles tensing underneath him, Aziraphale wrapping his legs around Crowley’s hips and flipping them both, pinning Crowley’s wrists firmly on either side of his face. 

For a moment, they are still, watching each other. The air between them crackles with tension like electricity. Or maybe it _is_ electricity, flowing between them like a conduit. Aziraphale almost hurts to look at, partially manifesting his true form in his intensity. More eyes blink open around him, some blue as the sky, others white gold and shining. A few feathers fall from far above.

Crowley flexes and unflexes his fingers slowly, and then his forearms, testing the angel’s strength. There is no give at all. Heat coils low in his belly at the realization. 

“Oh, you like that, hmm?” Aziraphale’s many eyes stare down at him, and he is smirking and looking for all the world like he wants to _eat_ Crowley. Crowley can only whimper, and writhe, his mind going blank with want. 

Aziraphale leans down to kiss him, and Crowley growls into it, passion overcoming him, but Aziraphale pulls back quickly. Eyes fluttering open, Crowley frowns at him petulantly. 

Aziraphale looks very smug, sitting back on his haunches, holding the demon down with no effort at all, and the sight both enrages and turns Crowley on like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

_Come down and kiss me, bastard,_ Crowley thinks with immeasurable fondness. Aziraphale gives a snort of laughter and gives in, leaning down to kiss him sweetly, chastely, still smiling against Crowley’s lips. 

Crowley leans into it, parting his lips, and this time Aziraphale acquiesces, locking their lips together and exploring Crowley’s mouth with his tongue, licking up against the roof of his mouth in a way that sends heat pooling in that space in his abdomen. 

Crowley can feel Aziraphale’s want inside his own chest, making him crazy. He writhes under Aziraphale’s weight, but he is pinned by the angel’s hips and hands. He loses what little control he has, and reality meshes with the ethereal plane. His wings unfurl, but only press into the mattress beneath them, no more helpful than his arms. Eyes closed, Crowley senses Aziraphale’s wings also appear, the two Crowley has seen before, and many others, some more present and more real than others. 

Aziraphale’s true form, holy and inconceivable, should burn him, melt him away like ice tossed into a campfire, sizzling into a vapor. Yet it doesn’t, instead it is warm like sunlight and tingles deliciously inside Crowley’s consciousness. Crowley groans into Aziraphale’s mouth, overcome by the heat of lust.

Aziraphale sucks Crowley’s lower lip into his mouth, and Crowley moans again. There is so much to _feel_ , almost too much. Aziraphale hums his approval, and then he rolls his hips deliberately, spreading his wings.

Crowley gasps at the sensation of Aziraphale’s erection rubbing against his own, mouth falling open and head pressing back into the pillow. 

Waves of pleasure rush over them with each roll of the angel’s hips, and Crowley can do nothing but moan and grind against Aziraphale. 

Suddenly, his wrists are freed, and Aziraphale is busying his hands unbuttoning Crowley’s fashionable shirt with deft fingers. Crowley’s hands find the angel’s thighs, thick and strong and flexing with his movement. 

Crowley flexes his fingers, squeezing them and digging his thumbs into the angel’s inner thighs. Aziraphale’s hands stutter on the second-to-last button, fisting in Crowley’s shirt. His wings flap involuntarily, pressing his hips harder into Crowley. 

_Mmm, come here,_ Crowley says, although he isn’t sure what’s silent and what’s out loud anymore. There are so many feelings and sensations encompassing them, and they all feel _so good._

Aziraphale responds, melting into him, and Crowley rolls up so both of them are on their sides on the bed, legs slotted together, still grinding slowly against each other. 

Crowley reaches to cup Aziraphale’s face in his hands as they kiss again, tenderly, a reminder of love and gentleness and _happiness._

_God, I’m so in love with you,_ Crowley thinks happily, and _feels_ the delighted shock that runs through Aziraphale, and is almost overwhelmed by _I love you, I love you, I love you so much,_ and their eyes open and meet, and Aziraphale’s are crinkled with affection, and he pulls Crowley close, breathing him in. Crowley sighs, reveling in the feeling of being held, being treasured. 

He feels surprise at his reaction, and then Aziraphale kisses him gently, on the lips, on the forehead, on both cheeks, in the crook beneath his ear as he turns into the pillow, blushing, heart stuttering like it’s about to give out. 

“You’re beautiful,” murmurs Aziraphale into his ear, and the sound sends shivers like fingers brushing down his outer thighs. Crowley wonders if Aziraphale can feel them, too. 

In answer, carefully, deliberately, Aziraphale opens his mouth and runs his tongue along the shell of his ear. The soft, wet noises are _loud_ , and his thighs shudder, the shivers moving to his lower back, and he exhales a shaky breath. 

_Well, this is unexpected_ , Aziraphale’s wicked interest swirls around them, and Crowley’s head spins with anticipation. He groans softly, but his breath is shoved out of him, resulting in a much louder, needier sound as Aziraphale _breathes_ over his ear, and opens his mouth to suck on his earlobe, humming softly. 

Crowley’s back arches helplessly into Aziraphale, and he is shaking, wings straining under them. 

_You alright?_ Aziraphale asks, although he can _feel_ the answer, taut in the air around them. 

_Yes,_ surfaces in Crowley’s mind, resoundingly, although _This is not a thing. This cannot be a thing,_ is very close behind. 

Aziraphale’s amusement flickers through them like laughter, although his mouth is too busy doing that _thing_ again, and Crowley can only shake and whine, hands coming up to clutch at Aziraphale’s back. 

Desire and fondness overcomes them, and it’s unclear which of them felt it first, and Aziraphale is brushing gentle fingers over Crowley’s forearms again, running his hands up to entwine their fingers together, and pinning them into the pillow as he presses wet kisses to Crowley’s ear and neck, both of them shivering deliciously. 

Finally, Crowley cannot take any more. Just as he decides he needs _more,_ Aziraphale releases him, and Crowley rolls on top, kissing him and rubbing his erection over the angel’s thighs. His wings finally expand to their full length, and he gives them a satisfied shake, a few bits of black down falling onto them.

Considering their clothes, Crowley pulls them both back into the material plane, wings and eyes and light disappearing for a moment as he tugs Aziraphale’s shirt off over his head, and takes his own the rest of the way off. They manifest again as he moves to Aziraphale’s trousers, undoing the belt and unbuttoning them slowly. 

He palms at the tent in the fabric there, relishing the hot shiver of lust it sends through them, and noting with some surprise that it is wet with arousal.

Suddenly he cannot get their clothes off fast enough, and a great heat fills his mind, and then they are both fully naked, clothes miracled away to lay on the floor somewhere. 

They both gasp and moan at the sudden sensation of skin on skin, and Crowley wraps a hand around Aziraphale’s leaking cock. Aziraphale’s mouth falls open and his hands fist in the sheets. 

Remembering their earlier conversation, Crowley grins, thinking of the images that had plagued him with lust. He really hadn’t been too far off, he thinks, and Aziraphale bucks up into his hand, his wings quivering, moaning as he realizes that Crowley had _dreamed_ about this, had thought about himself getting off to thoughts of Crowley. 

Crowley jerks him faster, and then he squeezes, shuddering, as he is presented by the images of _Aziraphale’s_ fantasies, the thought of Crowley with his lips stretched around Aziraphale’s cock, of Crowley coming from the thought of him, every image bathed in the same guilt and shame for thinking of a _friend_ like that, and Crowley can hardly take it. 

He straddles Aziraphale fully, and wraps his hand around both of them, letting the sensation flow over them with a groan. Aziraphale’s hand reaches to replace his, and _oh._

Aziraphale’s well-manicured fingers jerk them together, rubbing a deft thumb in circles over Crowley’s head, and he can feel his release coiling hot inside him. He cannot hold back much longer, and his wings flap, producing great gusts of air as his whole body seeks more friction. 

“Angel,” he gasps, and their eyes meet, gaze thick with lust, and Aziraphale speaks, voice deep in his urgency, but tone sweet and gentle. 

“Come for me, darling. You’ve done so well.” 

It sends Crowley over the edge, whiting out with pleasure as his hands clutch at Aziraphale’s hips, shaking, wings jerking erratically. 

His orgasm sends Aziraphale over the edge with a beautiful expression, arching into him and shuddering, both of their cum mixing on Aziraphale’s chest and stomach.

The sight sends Crowley’s dick twitching with aftershocks, and he shudders out a weak breath. 

  


With an effort, he miracles away the mess before collapsing bonelessly on top of Aziraphale, who cards a hand through Crowley’s hair, the other stroking his feathers gently where they sprout from his shoulderblades. 

They lay there together, and Crowley can hear the angel’s heartbeat in his chest. He closes his eyes, just basking in their shared warmth. 

“Once a serpent, always a serpent,” Aziraphale smiles, and Crowley loves the way he can hear his voice thrum in his chest. He hums contentedly in response, and they lay there for many long minutes. 

Crowley drifts out of consciousness, exhausted by their exertion, and so, so comfortable. Aziraphale smiles, and Crowley doesn’t wake as he wriggles his wings free, and wraps them both in a cocoon of white feathers. 

Aziraphale rarely sleeps, but he does now, feeling quite secure with Crowley draped over his chest— and entire body, really— like an oversized snake. 

He smiles, breathes a long, easy exhale, and then is asleep. They both dream warm and pleasant things, still sharing part of their minds with each other. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> first time posting any smut, let me know if you notice any mistakes, and if you enjoyed it!


End file.
